


Awaited

by TheRedWulf



Series: Stansa One Shots [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Lady of Dragonstone, Sansa POV, romantic, stansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 15:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19428421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - In which Stannis marches North to Winterfell to fight a war, but loses his heart instead.Sansa's POV from "Unexpected" (previous story in my Stansa One Shot series)





	Awaited

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of Stansa nonsense, angst free. Takes place in GoT universe, but I divert from canon, as you will see. Sansa is aged up, smarter and less naive, because reasons. This is from Sansa's perspective per demand---er, request. It wound up being 1k words longer than the original Stannis POV, but I think you will enjoy it. 
> 
> Once again, I don't fancy myself a writer, but I enjoy fiddling with the characters. This fic is un-beta'd so I apologize for any errors.
> 
> This is for my fellow Stansa shippers, especially those who have been so supportive so far. I love you guys.

She stared out over the vast expanse of the snowy plains, watching, waiting for something to happen. The dead were coming, she knew this but she felt deep within her soul that something else was waiting, just beyond her reach. 

As a little girl, her brothers along with Jon and Theon had told horror stories about the Wight Walkers who were rumored to live beyond the wall. Horrible creatures with twisted, rotting bodies and vacant blue eyes. 

“Blue eyes like you” Theon Greyjoy would laugh in her face as she shook her head and returned to her reading. It infuriated them, that she would be so lost in the world her books created that she did not care for their stories or childish antics. 

Mother and Septa Mordane had taught her carefully, everything she needed to know to be a proper wife. Sewing, embroidery, manners and decorum, she learned well. But they did not teach her about the history of Westeros, the rebellion and why their father was away so long fighting for a throne made of swords. 

It started with one book, “A History of Dragons” it was titled, on a high shelf in her father’s study she had stood precariously on a chair to reach it. In reading it she was able to travel the whole of the kingdom, see, feel and almost taste the sea beneath great dragons as they waged war in the sky. She had been enchanted, instantly hooked by the stories. And so she began to read everything in her father’s study. Surely if one book was so good, the others would be as well!

She devoured them quickly, learning both grand tales and the hard facts of the world beyond the walls of Winterfell. Her siblings would tease her for spending hours reading, but she did not understand how they could not want to learn all they could. 

She was not ignorant that as she grew in age, she also grew in beauty. She was fortunate to have inherited the Tully look, passing her mother in height by her ten and fifth nameday, her fiery hair standing out even more than her mother’s in the drab colors of winter. By the time she was of marriageable age, she was also well aware of how little she cared for the men her age. 

Rude, boorish and quite frankly disgusting, she did her best to avoid the lecherous gazes of Theon, the bawdy tales of King Robert’s conquests told by the men who fought in the rebellion and the way that she was now watched as she moved about the keep. Her dresses, though fitted were modest, covering her from neck to wrist, her own armor against the stares. No, she was not ignorant to her beauty, but she wished that she was valued beyond that. 

When she had learned all she could from Septa Mordane, she took up working with her Father and Robb, helping with ravens and communications as the threat of the dead grew near. She wanted a purpose, more than just an ornament to be gawked at. She knew every book in the study like the back of her hand and was able to recall helpful information without thought. She worked tirelessly as they called the Stark bannermen to arms, sighing as each return letter inquired as to the “Beautiful Lady Sansa” and her lack of a husband. 

“Lemoncake” her father would promise. “I will not make you a match until you tell me who you have chosen. You are a singular woman, and I would not part with you for anyone less than worthy.”

She would smile at his assurance, know that while she would have to marry someday, that she would not be bound against her will to a man who would want only her body and dowry. 

When it came time to transcribe the letter to Lord Stannis Baratheon, currently at Dragonstone, she found her hand oddly trembled. She had read, quite extensively, books and journals regarding his acts during Robert’s Rebellion. The Siege of Storm’s End had her up for days at a time, learning all she could about what they endured in the war. She had asked her father to tell her more, and so in the quiet of the evenings they sat by the fire and he would tell her all that he knew of Lord Stannis. 

“His brother’s underestimate him” her father had said one evening. Now ten and eight, he allowed her to have a glass of wine, and so she sipped it slowly as she listened. “His mind is quick, sharp and decisive, we would not have won without him,” he continued to tell her about his history with Stannis. “He is a truly good man, more so than any I have ever known” he summed up. 

“Is it true, the stories of the Onion Knight?” she asked. 

“Indeed, Ser Davos Seaworth, I believe he will be arriving with Lord Stannis in a fortnight” her father nodded. 

“Do you think we can defeat the dead?” she asked honestly. 

“With Stannis, absolutely” her father gave a small smile, patting her hand. “Now get some sleep lemoncake, and don’t stay up reading all night.”

And so, writing the letter asking Lord Stannis Baratheon to march with their bannermen, she felt that she was finally a part of the stories she had read for so long. Of course, he would not know the letter was from her hand, but all the same she felt as if she were a fair maiden summoning an army of knights to save the realm. 

When the calls echoed that the Baratheon army was spotted on the horizon, she abandoned her book to grab her cloak and walk, a Lady never ran, to the ramparts to see for herself. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she witnessed, for the first time, the vast sea of riders that covered the snowy plains. 

At the front was 4 men on black stallions, and from the descriptions she had read, she easily spotted Lord Stannis. He was tall, imposing even sitting atop his horse, with black armor emblazoned with his flaming sigil. He was looking at Winterfell and then suddenly their gazes were locked. Though she could not tell his eye color from this distance, she felt as if he could see through her into her very soul. His grey, if receding hair was a match for the beard growing at his sharp jaw, his brows pulled tight as he looked at her. 

Where men had looked at her with lust, with the desire to own, this man looked at her as if he did not believe she was real. She watched as the commanders rode towards the gates, her eyes locked on the Lord as he continued to watch her. In the moment, just before he rode beneath the rampart on which she stood, she saw his eyes were a deep, midnight blue that held not lust, but awe. He looked at her the way her father looked at her mother, and it shook her to her core. 

Quickly walking towards the courtyard she arrived in time to see him dismount, his great height towering over most in the yard. She spared a glance for the older man beside him, immediately discerning him to be the Onion Knight himself, she refocused on Stannis Baratheon. Using her mother as a shield for her examination, she took in the great Valyrian Steel blade at his waist, his battered armor and commanding presence. This man had seen true horrors, but she stood tall and did not hesitate to answer the call to defend the realm of man once more.

This man, she decided then, was a true knight. 

That night at the evening meal, she hurried to the dining hall to ensure she was able to sit beside Lord Stannis, ignoring the odd looks from Robb as she all but shoved him out of the way to sit there. She saw the Onion Knight smirking but ignored him as she gracefully sat beside Stannis. 

She was afraid, if she was forced to admit it, that if she spoke to him he would prove to be like the other men, that he would think less of her for her book knowledge and her desire to have a purpose in her life beyond being beautiful. 

As the first course was served, she steeled her courage, “My Lord” she said softly, but confidently. “Forgive me, but I have recently read an account of the Siege of Storm’s End and I was hoping to ask a few questions.” She did her best to keep the tremor from her voice. He looked scandalized and she was afraid that she had overstepped and soon he would tell her that she was too pretty to worry about Storm’s End. But he merely looked at her curiously, his dark blue eyes assessing her before he spoke, assuring her that he would speak with her on the unconventional topic. 

She felt something deep inside of her relax as they fell into easy conversation. Though he was curt and slightly abrupt, she found him as easy to talk to as she found father. Before she knew it the evening meal was over, and without asking she found herself talking with Stannis in the firelight of the great room. She could have talked to him for hours, learning all she could about his experiences, his travels and who he was. In truth, she had wondered what he was truly like as she read about him, but now face to face with him she was enthralled by his deep voice and the kindness in his eyes. 

She had searched all of her life for a man who would speak with her as an equal, who would listen as she talked and encourage her to argue with him. She felt, in looking at his sharp features in the firelight, that she had found him. 

In the sennight he stayed in Winterfell, she did her best to steal as much time with him as she could. As the war approached, her worry increased. She did not want to lose anyone to the army of the dead, and she did want to lose him now that she had found him. 

She tried to discern his feelings, but he was so hard to read, to see what he was thinking. She knew that he enjoyed conversing with her, she had learned enough of his character to know he did not indulge people and was more than ready to make his opinion known. 

Deciding it was time, she found her father as he stood on the balcony overlooking the training yards. “Father, may I speak with you?” she asked nervously, wringing her hands in her cloak as he faced her. 

“Of course, is something amiss?”

“No, all is well” she assured him. “I wanted to speak with you, regarding a conversation we had about my marriage.”

“Indeed?” he asked. 

“Yes, I remember that you said---that you promised you would not make a match unless I asked” she felt her cheeks heat. “And I wanted to make it known before you leave tomorrow, that if Lord Stannis should ask, should want to---what I mean to say is that if Lord Stannis were to ask after me, I would not be opposed.”

“I see” her father regarded her closely. “You have spent much time with him during his stay?” 

“Yes, though we have kept propriety in mind” she assured him. 

“Of that I have no doubt, Lord Stannis if an honorable man” Ned said, seeing the blush in his daughter’s cheeks and the spark in her eyes. Eyes so like her mothers. “You love him then, that’s the right of it.”

“Yes” she whispered softly, the word almost lost over the din of the courtyard. “He is a good man, strong but intelligent. He speaks to me as if I am his equal, challenges my thoughts and treats me as if I am worthy and I know that he would be a good husband, should he want me.”

“Ah, lemoncake” he pulled his daughter into his arms, kissing her forehead lightly. “You know” he released her to meet her gaze. “The first time I have ever seen him smile, was at you?”

“Truly?” she felt hope blossom in her chest. 

“Truly” her father smiled. “I will speak with him. I believe he would be too reserved to breach the topic himself.”

“He is reserved, but I do not believe it a fault” she agreed. 

“It is not a fault, but he has not had an easy life and I think he would rather go on unrejected than risk being sent away by the most beautiful girl in the seven” he said with an assuring kiss to her forehead. 

“Thank you Father” she smiled up at him, though soon she would pass him in height she still felt like a little girl in her father’s presence. 

That night, she worked hard on the soft grey handkerchief made from one of her old gowns, embroidering the edges and lightly scenting it with her lavender perfume. If what her father said was true, then she believed her favor would not go unappreciated. Tying the black silk ribbon, she lifted her embroidery scissors to cut a lock of hair from behind her ear where it would not be noticed. Placing it in the handkerchief she packaged it neatly, hating how her hands trembled in the darkness. Tomorrow they would march to war and she had no idea what the future would hold. 

She watched the courtyard as the commanders prepared to leave. Having already bid her father, Robb and Jon farewell, she focused now on the stoic man in the courtyard. Seeing that her parents were sharing their own goodbye, she hastened to Stannis’ side. “My Lord” she did her best to hold back the tears that threatened as his eyes met hers. “I wish you well, please be safe.”

“I will do my best, My Lady” he replied softly, his deep voice trailing off as she pulled the parcel from her cloak. “My Lady..” she saw his eyes widen at the favor. Had he truly never received one before going to war? 

“For later” she quickly placed it in his hand, indulging herself a moment of connection as her fingers lingered over his. 

“I shall endeavour to return” he promised, his eyes sincere and echoing her sadness. “And I shall treasure your gift” he tucked it into the pouch at his waist and she did her best to hold herself together. 

“Goodbye, My Lord” she curtsied gratefully and moved back to stand with her Lady Mother. The signal was given then, to depart, and on the great echo of hoof falls, she watched them ride away. 

She strode quickly to the ramparts, her eyes easily finding Stannis as he rode away. She watched until he vanished from the horizon before returning to the warmth of the keep. Gone, they were gone. She moved to the Godswood where she fell to her knees, praying over and over that they would return safely. 

With Father and Robb gone, she filled her days with the concerns of the keep and their tenants. Her Lady Mother had her hands full with Rickon, Bran and Arya, so Sansa gladly slipped into the role of Lord Stark and made sure everything was running smoothly. She could only embroider so many dresses before she went insane, anyway. 

Time seemed to pass quickly, and there was not a day that went by that she did not think of Stannis. She prayed in the morning and at night, begging the Old Gods to spare her loved ones from the army of the dead. She knew that with their armies and the skills of those in charge, victory was the likely outcome, but at what cost? 

She found she missed her dinners with Stannis, their evening conversations as the world around them faded away and they talked of anything that came to mind. She would laugh at each letter that arrived regarding her hand in marriage, setting them aside to be addressed after the war. 

It was several moons into the war when her mother pulled her into her solar, smiling softly, “I spoke with your father before he left” Catelyn squeezed her hands. “He told me about Stannis.”

“He did?” Sansa asked. 

“Yes, and I wanted to show you” Catelyn pulled a long, thick grey gown from the trunk at the foot of her bed. The material was Stark colors, the soft grey highlighted by the direwolf embroidery on the waist. “It's for you, should that stubborn man decide to marry you upon his return.”

“For me? You mean” Sansa marvelled at the beautiful dress. “This is my wedding dress?”

Catelyn nodded, “You love him, any one who dared to look at you two could see that” Catelyn explained. “And while I might not have loved your father from the start, I love him now. And I know that I would not want to give up the man I love. My beautiful girl” Catelyn set aside the dress to hold her tight. “You are so strong, so brilliant. No man will ever truly deserve you, but he is a good man, and if you have chosen him he must be special.” 

“Thank you” Sansa felt tears escape her eyes as she hugged her mother tight. 

She ran. The second the calls echoed in the Keep, she was running, pulling on her cloak as she made for the ramparts. Latching it quickly she felt her heart race at the sight of the Stark and Baratheon sigils as they breached the hill. They’re here! She felt herself bouncing as she waited for them to be close enough to discern the men. 

As they neared, she watched as two men moved to the front, their mounts moving slightly faster than the others. One horse a rich chocolate brown, the other a deep black. Father! Stannis! Walking along the ramparts she watched as they neared the gates. They were both alive and whole, if dingy and a bit thin. Stannis, her heart seemed to scream out to him and he obeyed, his gaze rising to meet hers in the clear light of the morning. 

As they crossed into the courtyard, she made her way below stairs in time to watch them dismount. Her father, she noticed was overwhelmed by her mother and siblings, so she stode quickly to Stannis’ side. 

“My Lord” she greeted, so incredibly happy to see him she could not stop from taking his gloved hands in her own. She could have sobbed with joy as his fingers tightened on hers, the warmth of his body assuring her that this was not a dream. She searched his gaze for some clue, any indication that he had spoken with her father, but as before she found him impossible to read. 

“My Lady” he replied, his deep voice a balm to her nerves. 

“Come” she ushered him towards the Keep. “Tonight there is to be a celebration.”

She took extra care of her appearance that evening, wearing a fine gown of deep black, the color Stannis seemed to favor most, and brushing her hair until it shined, then plated the sides into a braided bun, the rest falling down her back. Glancing at the grey gown as it lay across her vanity, she lightly touched the direwolf embroidery that her mother had painstakingly crafted. Such a beautiful gown that she could not wait to wear. 

Looking out the window, she noted that she had time to pray before the evening meal. She had escorted Stannis inside and seen to it that he had a bath and whatever he needed before she sought to her own appearance. Slipping on her boots, she grabbed her cloak and made her way to the Godswood. 

“I give you my thanks” she whispered to the Old Gods as she knelt before the tree. “You have bought them home safely, brought him home” she touched the white bark of the tree and tried to instill her gratitude to the old tree. 

Standing, she was preparing to go inside for the feast when she saw him. He had bathed and no longer wore his plate armor. He wore a black and gold doublet, Lightbringer at his waist. He looked uncertain, unsure and she tried to assure him, “Stannis” she called to him, moving to greet him. 

“Lady Sansa--Sansa,” he moved forward to take her hands as he cleared his throat. “I know I am neither young nor handsome, but I would--I would protect you, care for you and love you all of your days if you would consent---if you would do me the honor of consenting to be my bride” he voice, while nervous was strong and true, bringing tears to her eyes. He had spoken with her father, and he did want her. Joy coursed through her, and she wanted to sob in delight. 

Realizing he was awaiting her answer she spoke, “Nothing would make me happier,” she said softly as a few tears escaped. She watched in awe as his strong hands gently wiped the tears away. His warm thumb leaving a streak of fire as he touched her skin, her bare skin for the first time. She could not have stopped herself moving into his arms even if the Old Gods themselves had appeared, she held him tight, nustling her face into his neck beneath his jaw, grateful in this moment that she was quite tall. She felt his large hand as it threaded into her hair, and the warmth of his breath as he kissed her hair. 

This man. This knight who had stood brave in the face of horrors she could not imagine. Was hers. 

The soft light glittering in from the balcony woke her, as it did most mornings. The sound of the gulls along the rocks making her smile as she remembered where she was. Dragonstone, she sighed, turning to look at the sleeping form of her husband beside her. He looked relaxed in slumber, the frown gone from his full lips as he found peace at her side. 

After their beautiful wedding and exhausting sennight abed in Winterfell, they had ridden South. His home was beautiful, the black walls of Dragonstone jutting proudly above the rocks. She had read so much about Dragonstone and the Targaryen’s, but she did not imagine their home was this grand. She rode proudly beside her husband into the gates and once he did the necessary introductions to the staff, he spirited her away to their chambers. Tents along the King’s Road had not afforded them much privacy, and after discovering that she was quite vocal they had to put off any further love making until they returned home. He had a bath sent up, the tub large enough to fit both of them and they took advantage, scrubbing each other clean as they christened their chambers. 

She had quickly set about exploring the library and was greatly pleased when Stannis began to share with her his work. He had been restoring, rebuilding Dragonstone to its former glory. Stonemasons and skilled artisans from around the realm were hard at work making sure that the cold memories of Mad Kings were chased from the halls forever. 

She loved their days together, working side by side, or her reading as he answered ravens. But the nights, their nights together she would not trade for the world. Her husband was a skilled warrior, and his prowess with his hands worked well for both a great sword and in pleasing his wife. Though not ones to laze about, they savoured every moment with each other they could. Not quite married five moons and she had already missed her Moon’s Blood and dared to hope that she already carried a son. 

Smiling, she watched from the balcony clad modestly in her black robe as Stannis spoke with Ser Davos in the courtyard. Ser Davos proved to be a kind man, more than happy to share his stories of smuggling with her in the evenings where they shared meals with him and his wife Lady Marya. As if bidden, Stannis’ gaze lifted to meet hers and she saw the ghost of a smile on his lips. With a simple tilt of her chin and raise of her brow she summoned him, her brave warrior, and as she turned back into their chambers she knew it was only a matter of moments before he stormed through that door to claim her once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you have not read the original it can be found by clicking previous work in this series, or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194266903
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
> @the-red-wulf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/


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